The building is safe. She’ll be fine. I still don’t like the idea of her being away from the mansion and the heavy security I have there, but she’s right. I can’t keep her as a prisoner even if the idea excites me.
In my office, I should be getting a lot of work done, but the camera feed on my laptop is distracting me. I can’t stop watching her. She’s settling in nicely. Her desk is neatly organized, and she’s already started researching and sourcing suppliers of rare books. I think she’s actually going to be damn good at this job.
But the thing that’s bothering me is that one co-worker in particular keeps coming over to her desk to talk to her. He’s in his early thirties, around my age, and not bad looking, objectively. I hired him because he has many connections to antique auction houses that specialize in books. But now I’m regretting that decision because he seems to have more interest in mywifethan in actually doing his job.
All day, I tell myself to ignore it because she’s handling it well and isn’t interacting in any way other than professionally, but the gall of this guy is starting to grate on my last nerve. It’s only three, not anywhere near the end of the workday, when I stand up from my desk in a rage and gather my things to leave.
I can’t stand it for another second. I need to make it clear as fucking day to this asshole that he’s messing with the wrong girl.
The elevator doors slide open on the third floor, and I storm out of them, then pause and force myself to calm down. I can’t go in there like a madman. I need to be more subtle than that.
Sighing, I take a breath before I start moving again.
Walking into the open-plan office, my eyes dart straight toward her desk, where the guy is standing exactly where he was when I closed my laptop upstairs. His arms folded as he half-sits on the edge of her desk, next to her chair.
“Blair,” I say, my voice booming loudly against the walls. “How has the first day been going?” I ask cheerfully.
Blair looks up, surprised to see me. Her frown says she’s not particularly happy about it.
The guy turns to look over his shoulder at me, but doesn’t move away from his desk.
I step around him, knocking him harder than I need to, and wrap my hand around Blair’s jaw, lifting her face and pressing my lips lightly against hers.
She is stunned into silence as I pull away and turn to the guy, who has managed to take a hint and take a step back.
“Simon, Blair’s husband,” I offer him my hand, smiling with my lips while my eyes shoot daggers at him.
“Uh, Matthew, uh, good to meet you,” he stammers.
“I know who you are, Matthew. I hired you.”
“Oh, um, oh,” he stammers again. “It’s good to meet you in person, Mr. Popov. Blair and I were just, um, discussing an upcoming auction,” he says quickly.
“All day?” I challenge him.
“What?” he asks, confused.
Blair stands up, making a noise of it as she pushes her chair backward.
“Simon,” she says, polite but stern. “I don’t finish work until around five,” she says with a tight smile.
I turn away from Matthew and grin at her. “I know, but I wanted to come down and see how things were going.”
She sneers, still trying to maintain a professional attitude around her co-worker.
“That’s nice, but I have a lot of work to do,” she says sternly.
“I’ll leave you guys to it. I’ve also got a lot of work to do,” Matthew blurts out, backing away and smiling awkwardly.
Of course you do. You haven’t done a damn thing today because you’ve been flirting with my wife the entire fucking time.
When Matthew is gone, Blair grabs my arm and drags me into the corner of her office area, away from the open-plan space where everyone can see us. She backs herself into a corner, dragging me along with her.
“What the hell was that?” she hisses angrily.
I take another step closer to her and press her back against the wall, keeping my voice low. “He was practically falling over you!” I snap.
“So, what! It’s not like we’re married for real. And you practically stamped your damn name on my forehead like you own me!”
